Warrior's Heart
by tjazzsandmo
Summary: A young wildcat raised at Redwall sets out on a quest for vengeance as the fox who almost killed her seeks to triumph where all other warlords have failed. Rated for violence: may change later.
1. The Silence

Whoever said a fox was cruel

And cunning, one to deceive?

And who laid it down

That vermin were rats,

Over whose deaths none would grieve?

It's always been told

Of snakes, weasels, and stoats

Never to trust or give aid to them;

And among their own kind

You unfailingly find

Underhand plots that destroy them.

In the midst of all this 

Could it ever be had

That a fox would be good

While an otter was bad?

From ages of stereotypes we must part

To see in a villain a warrior's heart.

**Warrior's Heart**

A/N: Here's the first chappy of the first fic I've actually published. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Well, let's see, the Redwall setting and related things like "somebeast" and "squirrelmaid"-Brian Jacques. Characters and plot within this story-mine.

_Chapter 1: The Silence_

Sparks danced red and gold under the contemptuous glare of Tharn Yagil, mocking him. The stoat sighed, staring moodily into the flames that danced gleefully in the face of his misery, willing it to produce a fat roasted woodpigeon from its fat jeering face. Behind Yagil hunched shivering over the fire, the bushes rustled. Yagil ignored it, though a ready claw was hooked around the dagger beneath his cloak. It was only Welp. "What is it now, Welp?" he rasped impatiently.

A scrawny, nervous rat with patchy black fur skittered out of the undergrowth. Bowing upon shaky legs, she spoke in a high-pitched quaver. "Th-Tharn Yagil, sir. The c-clan says yesterday you p-promised them they'd have f-food by now, sir." She shrank back as he turned his gaze upon her, knowing her words could easily incur the wrath of the brooding stoat.

"And do they have food, Welp?" he replied in a hoarse whisper, danger alight in his eyes. The rat winced and visibly gulped before responding. Yagil was unpredictable in a mood like this, especially after a defeat.

"N-n-no, sir. They are h-h-hungry."

Tharn Yagil averted his gaze from the terrified Welp, returning to his preoccupation with the fire. He sneered at it. _All your fault, fire. It's your burning, crackling, fiery fault my clan is plotting to revolt tonight._ He knew his clan was displeased and, as all vermin do, they were plotting against him. Welp had been sent to let him in on what he already knew, which meant the time for action was fast approaching.

Suddenly he spun back upon Welp, slashing his claws deep into her cheek and sending her with a heavy thud to the ground. He stood over her calmly and stated, "Moles are weak, inferior creatures, and one little den of them should have been dead within seconds. But I am only one stoat, Welp, and I cannot kill them all myself. Besides, then you and your disgraceful excuses for comrades would have no share in the booty. Tell them that from me, Welp, will you?" He whined his last request, an honest plea in his voice. The next instant his foot paw connected solidly with her side. Hauling her upright by her neck, he shoved her in the direction of the other disgruntled clan members, growling, "Tell them, Welp. Always do what your leader asks of you. Or else." He chuckled dryly, and returned to his post at the fire.

_Shht. Shht. Shht. Crack! Shht. _ The sound of a twig breaking underpaw drew the fox Asino's attention away from the axe blade he was sharpening. He tested the edge, finding it honed to perfection, and then addressed the black rat who collapsed beside him. "What did he do, Welp?" he questioned casually. She touched a paw gingerly to her face, indicating the bleeding scratches. The fear was quickly receding from her, and her voice grew spiteful and sarcastic.

"Oh, he only threw me down, beat me, threatened me, and called his clan a disgrace. I 'ope yer happy."

He caught her disgusted look, found her a somewhat clean scrap of cloth with which she could clean her face and calmly returned to fingering his beautifully crafted battleaxe. Axes and spears were Asino's specialty-nobeast in the clan could beat him. "I am happy, Welp, thank you for your concern. But that is good-Yagil's playing down to our level now. He's unnerved and he knows we aren't behind him. Not much of a leader anymore, is he?" He raised his voice so his last statement could be heard by half a dozen nearby clan beasts. Grumbled agreement met his words.

"Yeah, well ain't it a bit disgraceful that a few molebeasts defeated an 'ole vermin clan?"

"Only if you think we could've done better."

An aged fox in heavy bandages spoke up from where he was lying, a few feet from Asino. "Those moles got lucky, kicking their cooking fire about and happening to get it caught on a clothesline. If they hadn't been surrounded by their own flames we'd have killed them all."

Asino snorted disdainfully. "Yes, father, and if you hadn't been so blind, you wouldn't be the only thing half-cooked around here." Asino's father was his greatest disgrace, an ordinary clan vermin with an amazing capacity for being slack-the antithesis of his self-driven, power-hungry son. "Any food around, Gretch?"

A sleek weasel sitting opposite of Asino replied, "Nothing much, but here." She reached into a pouch slung around her neck and withdrew a pawful of early strawberries. Reaching across the space where a fire should have been, she handed them to the fox. "Little bitter, but summer will be here soon." Asino received the berries gratefully and devoured them on the spot. Several minutes passed in silence, every creature reflecting upon their individual miseries, then Asino rose and shouldered his axe.

"Time to go, mates. Yagil's had more than enough opportunity to turn things around." Silently he disappeared into the trees surrounding the vermin camp, followed closely by Gretch and Welp.

Although their actions were furtive and their plans well concealed, it was easily inferred what Asino's trio was up to. It reflected the general attitude of the clan. An unnatural silence blanketed the clearing, ominous and foreboding in its chilling presence.

With Gretch and Welp concealed among the trees on either side of him, Asino strolled back into camp and right up to Tharn Yagil, staring levelly at him from across the fire. The stoat was muttering curses at the fire under his breath, and jumped when the image of a fox suddenly seemed to appear in the flames. "Whaddya want, foxling?"

His young seasons being pointed up as an insult irked Asino, but he kept his tones cool. He knew he could easily have Yagil slain without the stoat even knowing what hit him. But that would create a craven image for Asino, and he knew he could beat Yagil in combat just as easily. So he simply announced, "Tharn Yagil, you will die tonight."

This assertion finally snapped Yagil into full consciousness. He laughed mockingly at the young fox, and said tauntingly "And I suppose yer going to kill me?"

Asino ignored the stoat's ridicule and merely nodded with grave sincerity. Yagil threw his head back and roared with laughter. "That little whelp...kill me...he couldn't kill an apple if'n it fell on top of his axe! Hahahahahohohoho!"

Asino leveled his axe at Yagil from across the fire. "Fight me, coward, or die where you sit."

Yagil straightened, noting the ferocity in the fox's eyes, then called to the rest of the clan. "Look, Asino wants to die." Stifling another gale of laughter, he rose and drew a sword from the sheath on his back and a dagger from his belt. It was remarkable how quickly the gaiety fell from his countenance when faced with an adversary. Already the vermin had closed in upon the combatants, forming a ring within which the two would battle until one emerged the victor and undisputed leader of the clan. The pair circled halfway around the ring, then Yagil charged.

He slashed down toward Asino's neck, meeting the blade of the fox's axe with a sharp clang. Asino darted sideways and swiped toward Yagil's legs. The stoat leapt backward, eyeing the fox suspiciously. Asino grinned, a gesture enough to infuriate the wired Yagil, who lunged forward with a roar and hacked at Asino's head. Asino stepped almost delicately sideways again, and Yagil stumbled across the ring, unbalanced by the force of his unmet blow. He spun back to Asino, snarling, "Fight me! You are a coward!" He lunged again, meeting the fox's axe-blade, and the two exchanged blows. The clang of the blades reverberated across the clearing as the two jumped and slashed. It was a brief conflict. Asino flicked his axe to the left, and Yagil met it. The two strained against each other for a moment, then Asino slid his axe straight down the sword blade and into Yagil's paw, separating the weapon from his grip. Yagil paused, then hurled himself toward his sword. Asino swung the axe straight down into the stoat's back. Hauling him upright on the edge of his blade, he whispered, "You are a fool, Tharn Yagil. And now you are dead." Disgustedly he shook his weapon free of the limp carcass and turned to the rest of the group. Gretch and Welp emerged from hiding, their assistance not having been needed. His voice rang out across the silent vermin, victorious and confident.

"I, Asino, lead this clan now. Any who do not wish to follow me, leave before I learn whom you are or I shall track you down and kill you. Only the strong and the worthy shall be taken under my command. You will not speak unless you have something valuable to say. You shall carry out every order down to the last tail twitch or face...unpleasant consequences."

Somebeast spoke up from the back. "You are an arrogant, incompetent upstart. Nobeast will ever bend to your will, Asino."

Asino grinned. This was where his expertise with spears came into play. Even as the rebel was speaking, he reached behind his back and the ever-attentive Gretch passed him a short spear, perfect for the distance. Without moving a paw to reveal the presence of the weapon he hurled it forward. He did not miss, and an old, heavily bandaged fox lay slain with the spear in his throat. Asino shrugged, and turned from the scene. "Silenced him for good this time," he chuckled to Gretch.

The weasel grinned. "And I'm sure you'll enjoy the silence."

Asino started at her last words. _The Silence,_ he mused. _It was perfect, no ordinary name for an army. The perfect name for no ordinary band of vermin._ His would be no horde, no rabble of useless searats and corsairs. They would be soldiers, well versed in the ways of war. Their name would be reminiscent of so many things Asino wished opposing forces to consider. The unnerving, unnatural silence that falls over the woodlands just before a predator strikes. The silence of an assassin, moving undetected until it is too late. And the perpetual, irrevocable silence of the dead. He issued his first command in an authoritarian voice. "Break camp and move out." He started off westward, without a backward glance to see who chose to follow. Without another leader, most of the vermin were likely to follow.

Gretch loped fluidly over to the new clan leader, a slight urgency in her speech. "Asino, what shall we do about the two slain ones?"

Asino flashed her a fiendish grin before nonchalantly replying, "They can rot where they fell." Turning back to the path ahead, he broke into an easy trot, bound for the western shores, and has never looked back since.

A/N: Hopefully it was worth your while to read that. Please read and review, flame if you feel like it, so I can see if people want me to continue writing this story.


	2. Wildcats

A/N: Chapter 1 took place in late spring; Chapter 2 starts in late summer about nine seasons later. Many thanks to Kayla Silvercat for her wonderful review; it is my hope that I get more like it in the future.

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_Chapter_ _2:_ _Wildcats_

The dawn that swept itself across the western shores was the epitome of a brilliant summer blazing into a placid fall. The ocean, brushed in a golden sheen, glittered like a rare gem in the morning sunlight. High above, sea birds cawed, but none of this diverted the focus of Asino from a small den among the shore rocks.

A burly ferret bounded silently up alongside the fox. Inclining his head to his leader, he spoke the only word of true importance while indicating the den with a paw: "Wildcats."

Asino nodded without ever glancing at the ferret, tilting his muzzle away from the den to bid him to leave. Eyes narrowed with assiduity he studied the den; in his mind, a plan was rapidly materializing. Several minutes were spent thus before abruptly he tore his gaze from the den and addressed Gretch. "Summon them." Even the lord himself had learned his short-worded way.

Elegantly the weasel bowed and drifted off toward Asino's army. Over nine seasons his contingent had grown into tight, drilled ranks numbering to several hundred. He'd shown his followers that under his leadership they found success; they had food, weapons, treasure, and even captives to carry their gear. What more could vermin want? And so, as they began to trust him and want to follow his orders, he began tightening his hold on them, drilling them over the deep sands until they were strong, fast and agile. It was little trouble to induce them to practice fighting. Organized into ranks depending upon the weapon with which they were most skilled, Asino's was a deadly accurate, perfectly constructed regiment.

Gretch's sharp call rose above the soft scuffling of creatures awakening and starting cooking fires. "Silence!"

She only needed say it once; every creature froze on the spot and stood quickly to attention: that call only ever meant Asino was to speak. The fox grinned, standing on a small rise at the head of his horde. He liked the way it only took one word to address the entire group by name and cease all noise at the same time. He motioned with a paw as he dictated his ideas. "Wildcats in the den just over there. We shall take them. Who will come?"

A score of beasts from the ordinary rank and file marched up to the fox. They bowed their heads to their lord, holding their choice of weaponry parallel to the ground in front of them. Only at Asino's nod of approval did they step aside to join the other volunteers in neat, straight rows. It was Asino's cunning leadership that made so many creatures wish to work for him; he'd ensured they'd won every raid, in particular specialized missions such as this. With no thought of failure and plenty of able-bodied beasts, selections were a first-come, first-serve affair, the only risk being they never quite knew what they'd volunteered for, but the rewards were well worth the risk.

Asino nodded to Gretch and Welp and beckoning over the ferret who'd spoken to him earlier said, "Slipclaw, take half just north of the dens, at the break in the shore rocks. Make the pit there. Welp and the other half south of the den." He strode briskly off across the sand, Gretch falling naturally into stride beside him.

A few hours later, the plan was ready to put into action. Slipclaw's crew laid in ambush behind a line of rocks parallel to the shore and the wildcat den; Welp's was situated farther down the beach. Asino and Gretch laid belly down on the sand with Slipclaw's group, keen eyes fixed steadily upon the den. A scout had reported a female and two cubs within; if a male were present, he was out hunting and due to return soon. It was a hot, uneventful wait, but Asino was calm and ready as ever.

At last, the shadowy form of a large, male wildcat loping out of the trees rewarded Asino's searching gaze. In between Slipclaw's vermin and his den, he was in the perfect spot. Welp, watching intently from her post, caught Gretch's signaling paw waving over the rocks and ordered the charge.

It was Asino's hope that half a score armed vermin charging at the cat would surprise him enough to evoke a flight reaction: straight into the pit awaiting him. He was indeed surprised, but the thought of his family sat foremost in his mind and he dug in his claws, ears laced flat back into his skull, baring his teeth with a tangible ferocity. The oncoming force faltered at his unexpected reaction; until Asino spurred them on ordering, "Drive him back! Kill him if you must!"

He knew this beast could never be caught, so he leaped out from behind the rocks and joined the fray, the others right behind him. One of the three spears on his back struck the cat in the leg; with a roar of pain, he spun upon the fox and advancing reinforcements. Anger blazed in his golden eyes; driven by instinct to protect his den he charged. Asino's second spear caught him deftly in the neck with but eight feet to spare. The handsome creature staggered a moment, and then fell heavily to the sand, staining it crimson with blood from its neck and several other minor wounds.

Gretch sighed and commented to a panting Asino, "Well, that didn't go quite as planned."

Asino could only nod in agreement. Wildcats were a little more fight than innocent woodlanders.

Welp's attune ears caught a rustling from within the wildcat den. She crouched low next to Asino and muttered, "Look's like yer mamma kitty's gonna come play." Asino heaved his exasperation to the winds. Did Welp always need to state the obvious?

He motioned to a dozen archers, who trained the tips of their arrows upon the den entrance, and put things simply. "Kill her." Welp leapt forward and grabbed Asino's paw for his attention.

"If you keep killin' 'em, yew aren't gonna get anything out o' this, Asino."

It was Gretch who rescued the fox, slapping the flat of a dagger smartly across the rat's paw. "Shut up, Welp. There are still the kits. Let Asino be the brains of this outfit."

Welp sent daggers of hatred in her glare at Gretch; Asino chuckled softly and sidled off away from the two competing females.

Welp's prediction soon proved true; the form of an elegant female wildcat slunk from her den, ears pushed flat back, razor-sharp teeth bared as her flashing golden eyes caught sight of her fallen mate. Any further cognition was cut abruptly short, however, as twelve arrows struck into her spotted pelt at various locations, many burying themselves among organs critical to her life. Nobeast had missed, and the carcass of a second wildcat served as morbid adornment to the serenity of a previously unblemished beach.

Asino smiled, revealing several pointed fox teeth. His eyes glinted with suppressed satisfaction. The kits were his. He rose from the behind the rocks, a light sea breeze playing with his plain gray tunic. Everybeast watched as the two green stripes across his shoulders glided toward the wildcat den with unearthly smoothness. Those two green stripes were all that distinguished Asino from those who bowed to his will but in reality, the gap between him and them was leagues across.

Crouching down, Asino peered into the gloom of the den. An irate hiss greeted his figure silhouetted in the mouth of the den. After several minutes of letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, Asino poked his head in slightly further and saw a pair of young wildcat cubs, barely weaned off their mother's milk. A female and a male. The male sat in an uncoordinated, kit-like way, but firmly stood his ground. It was the female who stood spitting and slashing at him with minute, though nonetheless sharp, claws. It tickled the fox lord; such spirit, he mused. _If I could harness that..._ He turned and retreated from the den, beckoning the rest of the vermin forward. They were well equipped with nets and thick lengths of rope. A pair of hulking foxes stepped forward at Asino's silent nod, and edged toward the den, nooses in their paws. Getting only as close as need be, and with the frightened kits rooted to the spot, they cast the loops expertly over the cats' necks in a single sweep.

Chaos was instant; for being such young creatures the wildcats fought like some full-grown beasts could not, jumping, twisting, and jerking at the rope ends. Several other vermin jumped forward and helped the fox duo haul the squealing kits out of the den, where they sent sheets of sand in every direction. The other rope-bearers hooked their loops around any leg they could find. Slipclaw cast a rope around the leg of the female, who was farthest from him. She spun and reared back against the rope with a scream of fury, knocking the unprepared ferret off balance, who fell sideways on top of the fox handling the rope encircling the wildcat's neck. The kit then took off up the beach, dragging the rope through Slipclaw's paws.

Asino saw the wildcat streaking off. "Stop her!" he roared. A bowbeast loosed an arrow that buried itself in the escapee's right hind leg; she bobbled sideways across a small ditch and twisted that leg unnaturally far. Driven by fright and fury she scrabbled to her paws and streaked off again, taking to the fringe of woodland and soon becoming lost to sight.

Asino was livid. He kicked Slipclaw hard in the side, making the ferret whimper in pain and fright. He then drew his axe and sliced it across Slipclaw's rope burned paws. The weasel squealed, staggered upright and fled, leaving a trail of blood from his wounded paws as he went.

Meanwhile, the others had managed to subdue the male kit; somebeast slapped the flat of his blade across the babe's skull and knocked him unconscious. The ropes were loosened, and his legs were securely hobbled. Though still sore about the loss of the female and very easily incited, Asino was glad he had one wildcat. The statistics nearly horrified him; four wildcats in a den and he'd managed to capture one? What kind of an army did he lead anyway? He muttered this last thought aloud, though nobeast could hear him. As he stared down upon the limp wildcat, he could already see him fully grown, strong enough to beat even Asino in battle. This kit would be special, the best fighter aside from Asino himself, icon of the horde. He sat next to the cub and stroked his downy head almost lovingly. "You need a name," he murmured. "A strong name, one to strike fear in everybeast's heart. Rent. Yes, Rent Foxfire. Rent Foxfire of the Silence."

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A/N: Well, there's chappie 2. Hope you liked it, R&R pretty please with sugar on top:) 


	3. Seaspray

A/N: If only you could see me through the computer, you would see that I am on my knees, offering my most humble and sincere apologies and begging not to be forever shunned for taking so astronomically long to update my story. Life just basically ate me and I finally managed to get it to spit me back out, at least for the summer. I promise, I really do, that this time I will not take forever to post a new chapter. Thank you Kayla Silvercat, Agent D, and Flecher for your reviews, and I hope that you will be willing to continue reading my story. And yes, the female kitty will (obviously) live and (obviously) make it to Redwall, and you shall find out how by simply reading on!

_Chapter 3: Seaspray_

Three days the young female wildcat limped across the woodland. She weakened with each starving, broken step, and the blind fear of recapture presented the only force remaining to drive her onward. Her body was ready to quit forever, but still she struggled into a realm that held so little hope for a dying wildcat kit. On the morn of the third day after her escape, injury, lack of food and dehydration overcame her; at the bank of a clear woodland stream she collapsed in a heap, vulnerable to whatever fate should befall her.

Little droplets of spray jumped from the stream, flashing like fish in the sunlight, and speckled otterbabe Jodri Seaspray's face. He clapped pudgy paws together in delight-truly a waterdog even at his young age. Skipper Ret Seaspray, a sea otter gone landward, smiled down at his son. "Water's wonderful stuff, mate, that's fer sure." He gazed up at the single sail of his ketch billowing in the breeze. "So's the wind, as you'll be finding out soon enough."

Jodri grinned at his father, then his tone grew commanding as he gestured emphatically at the cool stream. "Inna water, daddy! In!"

Skipper feigned indignation. "Just a babe and already issuing orders! What kind of son am I raising?"

Shara Seaspray, Skipper's pretty wife, stole up behind him as he was speaking. "Hopefully a good strong otter without his father's disregard for rules."

Skipper chuckled softly, "Aye, and without yore strictness, although I wouldn't mind him having a pretty face like yours."

Shara slapped him on the paw, attempting sternness but blushing lightly at the compliment. As she was about to retort, a call from the prow routed the pair's attention from their banter. "Skipper, look! There on the bank!"

Skipper bounded forward, his eyes following the outstretched paw of the ottermaid Rara Broadbank until his gaze came to rest on a pile of mottled tannish fur on the bank. It was some sort of creature, though it appeared more like some strange sort of moss-covered rock. Skipper narrowed his eyes and peered at it. "I think it's dead, if it were ever alive," he said slowly.

Rara's keen eyes ran across the limp form, then grew wide. Instinctively her paw clenched tight around her sling. "Skipper, uh-I think that's a...a wildcat."

Jodri, Skipper's ever-faithful shadow, gestured at the cat. "A wide cat, daddy!" he announced gleefully.

Skipper nodded. "Must be just a young 'un, though. Mebe it's still alive."

Jodri tugged at Skipper's paw. "'Course it's 'live, we gorra 'elp it."

Rara stared open-mouthed at the otterbabe, shocked. "'elp it, Jodri? Wildcats are vermin, everybeast knows that."

Skipper scratched his chin. "True, but I can't stand to leave a poor helpless babe out there to die. Rocc, can you get close enough to see if the poor thing's alive?"

A brawny otter stepped out from the group assembled in the prow. "Aye, Skip. Whatever ye say." He leapt lightly over the side of the ketch and dove in, cutting the water like a knife. Moments later he surfaced in the shallows, edging closer with the silence of a skilled hunter, until he stood but a few feet from the unconscious wildcat. He made a silent motion to Skipper that the cat was breathing.

Ret Seaspray turned to his steersbeast. "Put her in close." He received an incredulous look. "You heard me!" The urgency of the situation at last dawned upon the crew; with expert steering and the help of some poling the ketch drew near the shore. Skipper sprang off the deck, landing lightly upon the grassy bank and crept slowly over to the kit. Rocc slid easily out of the water and joined him.

It was soon apparent that the babe posed no threat and was, at best, barely alive. Skipper crouched down next to it, extending a paw, and softly stroked the downy tan fur of a creature that was far too young to be so alone in the world. He saw the raw patches from ropes on her neck and paws, and the leg that crooked oddly to one side with half an arrow shaft still buried within it. And yet each paw was equipped with claws sharpened to kill, teeth encased in the powerful jaws of a born hunter. Wildcats were villains, everybeast knew that. The good creatures of the woodlands and of Redwall had fought them for ages-Martin the Warrior himself slew a wildcat to end their tyrannical reign over Mossflower. Skipper gazed at the babe's face, exhausted and innocent, and he saw another, hardly any older, the giggling, playful features of the babe he loved more than any other: his own son, Jodri Seaspray. "You are not so different," he murmured. There was so much danger in taking in such a creature, to himself, his family, his home. Who could tell what it would grow up to be? Skipper hooked both paws beneath the limp form, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and set off for the boat, Rocc following close behind. "I know a place that will take even you," he whispered in its ear. Back aboard the ketch he met his entire crew watching silently and somewhat fearfully. He lowered the wildcat onto a pile of extra canvas, then straightened up and addressed his crew. "To Redwall," he said.

A/N: For some reason this chapter wasn't easy to write; personally I don't think it's some of my better writing. And it was, well, short. I once again apologize for the longer than long wait and promise that I will update more consistently from now on.


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